


Scar

by Python07



Series: Clone Wars Whump [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Battle of Khorm, I'm using the Legends version of the Battle, M/M, Whump, Wolffe's missing eye
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:35:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28879590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Python07/pseuds/Python07
Summary: Wolffe thinks his injury has ruined him.
Relationships: Plo Koon/CC-3636 | Wolffe
Series: Clone Wars Whump [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2108934
Comments: 4
Kudos: 57





	Scar

The explosion of the agrocite cannons threw everyone, trooper and droid alike, to the ground. Wolffe fell on his knees, hard, and his ears rang. The cold burned through his armor and his vision blurred. He was temporarily deaf to the men shouting and blaster fire. However, the klankers didn’t stop firing and neither did he.

Sound came back in a rush and it was almost overwhelming. He took a split second to shut his eyes, breathe, and center himself, just as Plo had taught him. Then he scrambled to his feet and looked around to see Kit Fisto waving at the men to follow him. He ran to catch up.

They came into a large cavern filled with mining machinery. Plo dueled with Ventress on a catwalk high above them. They moved against each other, dealing swift, lethal blows.  
Something twisted in Wolffe’s gut. He leaned in close to Fisto. “Why is General Koon only using one arm?”

Fisto didn’t take his eyes off the battle. “Because the other is broken,” he answered blandly.

Wolffe would be impressed. Later. Instead, he grit his teeth against the tirade on idiotic Jedi that threatened to escape. He anxiously searched for any way to get up there. He was ready to start climbing the rock wall when one of her lightsabers fell at their feet. 

Wolffe looked up to see Plo pointing his lightsaber at Ventress’ chest. She held her remaining lightsaber down at her side. She held something else in her other hand.

Wolffe couldn’t hear what they were saying. A second later, Plo moved his hand and used the Force to make her drop the small object. She let out a shriek and jumped off the catwalk after it.

Wolffe recognized the detonator two seconds before he shot it to pieces. He kept his blaster trained on Ventress while his men fanned out to surround her. “Surrender, Ventress.”

Ventess landed in a defensive crouch. Her lip curled into a sneer as she regarded them with contempt. “Boys,” she drawled.

Fisto pointed his lightsaber at her. “There’s no escape this time.”

Wolffe edged closer so he could rush her while she was distracted. He barely tilted his head to let his men know to stay where they were. Just a few more steps and he’d have her.

“Never,” Ventress snarled and Force-pulled her second lightsaber back to her. She bared her teeth. “This is going to leave a really nasty scar.”

Wolffe only saw the bright red flash. Pain and heat seared across his face. He didn’t realize the agonizing scream came from his own throat just before the darkness took him.

Wolffe jerked awake with a hoarse cry. He sat bolt upright from where he’d been sleeping slumped over on the desk in Plo’s quarters. His heart was pounding as he looked around wildly for Ventress.

He immediately recognized his surroundings but he couldn’t relax. His good eye felt gritty and his scar itched. He tore his eyepatch off from where it had ridden up onto his forehead in his sleep. He hugged his arms across his chest. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t speak. //Plo, where are you?//

In answer, Plo stepped into his quarters. His voice was calm and measured. “My Wolffe.”

Wolffe hunched over and hugged himself tighter. He bowed his head and squeezed his eyes shut. Tears slipped down his cheek.

Plo approached slowly. “May I touch you?” he asked softly.

Wolffe gave a jerky nod. //Please.//

Plo knelt smoothly. He didn’t try to pry Wolffe’s arms apart. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Wolffe to give him another layer of protection. “I have you, my Wolffe.”

Wolffe opened himself up to Plo’s calm and warmth. He shuddered and pressed closer. //I’m sorry.//

Plo rubbed Wolffe’s back. “You have nothing to be sorry about.”

Wolffe sniffed and his voice was raw. “She’s ruined me.”

Plo cradled the back of Wolffe’s head in his free hand. “Not ruined, never ruined,” he said, low and soothing.

“I’m a soldier. I have to be at my best to watch your back and take care of my men.” Wolffe shook his head stubbornly. “How can I do that now? My depth perception and aim are off. I had a shiney beat me in the sparring ring today.”

Plo pressed his forehead against Wolffe’s. “You’re still recovering. Don’t expect too much of yourself too soon.”

“What if they decommission me?”

“They won’t.”

Wolffe started shaking. “You know what they do to defective clones.”

Plo lightly ran his fingers through Wolffe’s hair. “You are not defective.” 

“If I can’t fight—”

“You will fight again,” Plo interrupted. He kept their foreheads together. “You will stay at my side. I never want to hear you say anything like that about yourself again. Now, breathe with me, my Wolffe.”

Wolffe concentrated on matching his breathing to Plo’s. “How did you know I needed you?”

“I felt your distress.” Plo pulled back just enough to take a look at Wolffe’s face. He rose to his feet. He kept a hand on Wolffe’s shoulder. “Come.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that Jedi magic.” Wolffe tried for a light tone. Instead, he sounded exhausted.

“No magic, just the Force.” 

Wolffe covered Plo’s hand. He stood on shaky legs. He let Plo guide him over to the bed and push him to sit down on the edge. “I can go back to my own quarters to sleep,” he felt compelled to offer even if his heart wasn’t in it. “You shouldn’t have to keep the mask on in your own quarters.”

Plo picked up the jar of cream from the stand beside them. He sat next to Wolffe and turned Wolffe’s head to face him. He gently applied the medicated cream to the puffy skin of Wolffe’s scar. “Is that what you want?” he murmured.

Wolffe kept his head still but his hands picked at the quilt. “Not really,” he admitted.

Plo traced Wolffe’s cheek. “Then you stay.”

Wolffe pressed his face into the touch. “Thank you, Sir.”

**Author's Note:**

> Answer to #7 on Celena Le Fay's Whump prompt list  
> https://notquitebroken.tumblr.com/post/189085953508/prompts-masterlist-whump


End file.
